


Talk to Me

by shadowsamurai



Category: Waking the Dead (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-03
Updated: 2012-07-03
Packaged: 2017-11-09 02:57:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/450495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowsamurai/pseuds/shadowsamurai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Epilogue for 'Skin, Part 1 and 2', Episode 4, Season 7.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Talk to Me

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, I'm just borrowing things for a while and I promise I'll put everything back exactly how I found it when I've finished. Well, almost exactly how I found it. ;)

WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD

Boyd sat behind his desk, alone in his office, feeling completely lost and useless. He'd agreed to let Luke out of the secure wing, and Luke had said he'd keep in touch. Would that actually happen? Boyd had his doubts. Now he'd finally found his son, he didn't want to lose him again, and the fact that Luke could quite easily end up dead scared Boyd shitless.

He was staring at his desk so intently that he didn't hear the tapping on his door, nor did he see the head that popped into his office. He didn't hear the quiet footsteps as someone padded across the room towards him, and it was only when Grace sat opposite him that Boyd looked up.

"Penny for them," she said.

"They're not worth that much," Boyd replied, attempting a smile.

"Did you sort things out with Stella?" Grace asked.

"I said I'd see her tomorrow."

There was a short pause. "I know what she did was wrong, but you've done the same and worse."

"I don't want Stella to turn into me," Boyd said quietly.

Grace stared at him. "Did you tell her that?"

"No."

"You should have."

"I don't need to explain myself to Stella, Grace."

"Or me," she replied, her tone slightly bitter. Boyd remained silent. "Right, I'm off now."

"Okay."

"Okay." Grace stood but didn't move. "You know I don't want to pry into your personal life, because it's just that, personal, but is everything okay? And before you say, 'I'm fine', just remember that if you need someone to talk to, as a friend, I'm here."

Boyd nodded once. "I know."

"Do you?" Grace sat down again. "We used to talk, Boyd. What happened?" she asked, and Boyd shrugged. "Does this mean we're not friends any more?"

"No, Grace, it doesn't mean that," he snapped. "Don't psychoanalyse something that isn't there."

"Then why won't you talk to me?" she said in exasperation. "I'm here, I won't tell anyone else what's going on, but you insist on doing… *this*, whatever 'this' is, alone."

"Maybe it's easier that way," Boyd replied quietly.

Grace studied him for a few minutes before speaking again. "Is it to do with Luke?"

Boyd's head shot up and he glared at her, his rage visibly rising. "Did -?"

Grace held her hand up quickly to pacify him. "Eve never told me anything; I worked it out on my own," she said calmly. "I am a psychologist, remember?"

Boyd's anger disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. "And an intelligent woman, Grace. Don't forget that bit."

"How could I?" She smiled, glad they could still banter. "Well, you know where I am, any time, night or day. And I mean that, Boyd."

Boyd smiled back at her. "I know, Grace. Thank you," he said sincerely.

"I'll see you tomorrow then." Grace stood and crossed the room, but she never made it out of the door.

"Do you think every situation can be resolved, Grace?" Boyd asked quietly.

Grace shut the door before seating herself on his couch. She didn't ask him to join her; she knew if he was comfortable enough talking to her, he would drift to her of his own accord.

"I think it depends on the situation," she began carefully. "But I think most situations can be resolved; some might take more effort than others."

Boyd leant over his desk. "How do you know if you're doing the right thing?"

"Ah, I don't think anyone ever truly knows what the right thing is," Grace replied with a slight smile. "All we can do is what we *feel* is the right thing, and just hope it is. It's all a learning process." She paused. "Are you talking about a specific situation?"

Boyd nodded. "I found Luke." His voice was so quiet, Grace had to strain to hear him. "He was taken to a hospital, and I went to see him. But I couldn't. I couldn't speak to him. All I could do was remember the last time I saw him, when I put him away. He said he hated me." Boyd's voice cracked slightly and he lowered his head.

"What did you do?" Grace asked softly.

"I walked away, almost demolishing a wall with a door as I went," he replied. "But I went back later, to try and work things out."

"And?"

"Luke had gone."

Grace nodded. "Then what happened?"

Boyd didn't answer, and Grace thought he had clammed up. But then he stood and walked over to the couch, never once looking at her. He sat down and leant against the back, his eyes closed.

"I got Stella to track his mobile phone number, but I didn't tell her who it was," Boyd continued. "I found the phone, but not Luke. I went back again later and found him, along with another young man who was...they were...." Words failed him, but Grace understood enough.

She turned on the couch to face him, tucking one leg underneath her. "What did you do?"

"Does it matter?" He sounded so dejected that Grace wanted to reach out and touch him, but she didn't.

"I think so, Boyd, yes. It seems to matter to you."

Boyd opened his eyes, but stared at the ceiling. "He's my son, Grace. I just wanted to protect him."

"What did you do?" Grace repeated.

"I grabbed the guy, punched him and hung him out of the window by his leg," Boyd replied flatly.

"Where you high up?"

"Yes."

"Then what happened?"

"You're taking this very calmly," Boyd said, finally looking at her.

Grace smiled. "I'm not going to judge you, Boyd. I'm just here to listen."

"Thank you." He leant his head back again. "Luke shouted, 'Dad', and I realised what I was doing. I pulled the guy back in, but Luke ran off. I chased him, but he disappeared."

"That must have been difficult."

"It was, Grace, it was." Boyd sighed.

"Do you want a drink?" Grace asked.

"Maybe later."

"Okay. So, have you seen Luke again?"

Boyd nodded. "After that, I phoned him. Told him I was sorry for everything and that if he ever needed help, I was there. He just said okay."

Grace smiled and finally reached forward to touch his arm briefly. "That's good." She could tell he was upset, but he was hiding it well.

"I then got a letter, well, it was a napkin in an envelope," Boyd said. "There was a picture on it of someone playing football with their dad."

"You and Luke," Grace guessed.

Boyd nodded. Now he'd started talking, he found he didn't want to stop. He'd wanted to talk to Grace so many times, and so many times she'd offered, but something always stopped him, and he wasn't sure what. Maybe he felt he didn't deserve it; maybe he felt she didn't mean it. But he was talking to her now, and she was listening, and that was the main thing.

"There was a time scrawled in the corner, and a day, so I went to the café at that time and that day," Boyd continued. "I waited for Luke to show up…."

"But he didn't," Grace finished for him.

He shook his head. "When I got back to my car, someone had smashed the driver's side window."

"Luke?"

"I think so."

"This picture of you and Luke playing football," Grace said. "Is it important?"

"I have two memories of Luke, two strong ones, and that is one of them."

"The other?"

Boyd was silent for a long time, and Grace saw him close his eyes again. "When I locked him up. He was dragged from the room screaming he hated me."

Grace reached forward again and squeezed Boyd's arm, holding on for longer this time. He opened his eyes, turned to look at her and smiled. "So after he didn't show up at the café, what happened?" Grace asked after a few moments, removing her hand from Boyd's arm, but not moving it far.

"I got a phone call a couple of days ago saying he'd taken too much, or drunk too much. I don't remember now." Boyd's voice was starting to crack again. "All I know is that he sounded so lost and helpless, and I had to help him."

Grace felt helpless as well in that moment. She wanted desperately to comfort Boyd, but she wasn't sure if that was overstepping some sort of boundary. Finally she made a decision and put her hand back on his arm. He covered it with his own and neither of them moved as Boyd carried on speaking.

"I went to find him, to try and help him. Oh God, Grace, he was lay at the bottom of this stairwell, and he looked like he was dead," Boyd explained, his tone desperate. "I took him to hospital, and then I met with a doctor. Another psychologist."

Grace smiled slightly. "We get everywhere."

"She told me Luke would be okay, and that he was sleeping, but unless he got some help, he…." Boyd trailed off, choked by his emotions.

"He'd die," Grace said quietly, and Boyd nodded. She turned her hand under his and laced their fingers together, squeezing his hand tightly.

Boyd gripped Grace's hand as though it was his only lifeline as he was drowning at sea, but not hard enough to hurt her. Grace watched as tears began to roll down Boyd's face, and while she wanted to wipe them away or cradle his head to her, she knew the only support she could offer was holding his hand. She knew for a man like Boyd, crying in front of someone else was never done. In fact, crying was probably never done.

"Did she ask you to sign a form?" Grace asked, trying to keep Boyd from clamming up.

He wiped his eyes with his free hand and nodded. "I thought it would be a hard decision, but it wasn't. I knew it was the best thing for Luke, to stay in the hospital for a while to get the help he needs. Help I knew he couldn't get from me."

"What went wrong?"

Boyd looked at her, his eyes bloodshot. "How do you know it went wrong?"

She smiled. "You were in your own little world when I came in, and there wasn't a drink in sight. Very unlike you, Boyd. Besides, I know you well enough to know when something's wrong."

"I went to see Luke after he'd woken up," Boyd said quietly, still holding Grace's hand. "We talked for a while. He was trying not to cry, and so was I." He shook his head. "I should have said something else, Grace. Bloody hell, I should have just hugged him. He was desperate for some sort of affection, some sort of comfort from me, and I just couldn't give it to him."

"It's not easy to change habits of a lifetime, Boyd," Grace replied gently.

"I should try, Grace. He's my son."

"There's still time."

"I'm not so sure," Boyd said, his tone flat.

Grace frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I - I was supposed to go and see him again, today, but I - we were in the middle of the case."

Grace studied him briefly before asking, "Has Luke left the secure wing?"

Boyd nodded shakily. "He phoned me and said, 'You can't lock me up again, Dad.' I said I know. I wanted to say so much more, but I couldn't. I just asked him to keep in touch. He said he would. I put the phone down." Boyd's whole body began to shake. "I was so close to getting him back, Grace, and now I think I've lost him again."

Aware it could do more damage than good to their friendship, but in that moment not caring, Grace pulled Boyd towards her. He didn't resist, but then again, she didn't think he knew what was going on. She freed the hand he was holding and wrapped it around his shoulders. His head rested in the crook of her arms and his tears soaked through the thin material of her top.

How long they sat like that, Grace wasn't sure. Her arms, legs and arse had all gone to sleep, and the rest of her wasn't far behind, and Boyd was so quiet that Grace he actually *had* gone to sleep. Until he spoke.

"Thank you."

She smiled. "You're welcome. That's what friends are for."

"I haven't been a very good friend, have I?"

"No, but I think I'll forgive you."

"Why?"

"Because I like you. Sometimes."

Boyd struggled to sit up, his body stiff, and he smiled at Grace. "Only sometimes."

 

She nodded. "The times when you aren't shouting."

"That's not very often."

"Maybe you should shout less then."

"Maybe I should."

There was a pause, but it wasn't uncomfortable like Grace thought it might have been. "I won't ask if you feel better or okay," she said eventually. "I know you won't until this with Luke is resolved properly."

Boyd nodded. "But I do feel better for talking, so that's something, isn't it?"

Grace smiled. "It is."

He stood, groaning and stretching, and then offered his hand to Grace, helping her to her feet. "Steady, Grace," Boyd said as she wobbled.

"Numb legs. And arms. And arse," she replied, gripping his arms to steady herself.

"They say the best way to get feeling back into a part of the body is to move it, or slap it," Boyd told her, his expression serious.

Grace looked unfazed. "Really? Is your face numb by any chance?"

Boyd couldn't help the smile that tugged at his lips. "That's not very nice, Grace."

"I'm not a nice person."

"No, you're a lovely person." He kissed her cheek briefly. "And if anyone says any different, they'll have me to deal with."

Grace stared at him. "Are you feeling alright, Boyd?"

"Not really, I think I might be coming down with something," he replied.

"Such as?"

"I'm not sure, but I think a drink will probably cure it. If the offer's still open, of course," Boyd added quickly.

Grace rolled her eyes, aware she was still gripping his arms, and nodded. "Just let me get my coat."

As Grace went into her office, Boyd turned all the lights out in his and locked up.

"I don't know what I'd do if I lost him, Grace," Boyd said quietly as he went to stand in her doorway. He watched her moving about her office and the familiarity of it comforted him.

Grace finished tidying, turned the lights out and walked up to him. "I know, Boyd, but you do have friends who are willing to help you. Don't forget that, and please don't shut us out."

He smiled briefly. "I'll try not to."

"Good. Right, red or white?" Grace asked as she took his hand and led him out of the building.

"Which ever's cheaper," Boyd replied, not bothering who saw him and his profiler linked in such an intimate way.

"Okay, next question. My place or yours?"

"Which ever's nearer."

"You're an easy man to please, Boyd."

"You have no idea."

FIN


End file.
